Unsure, Insecure
by IanPhilippe
Summary: [BillxRemus] Sequel to Rising Moon, could be a standalone. They lived together, loved each other. And then, one morning, a letter came.
1. A Letter

**Unsure, Insecure**

**Disclaimer: **I had wanted to own everything but I decided to share eventually. Characters belong to JKR and the plot is mine. She gets the money, I get hot smex .

**Warning:** This story contains Yaoi / Slash / Smex or whatever you may call it. For those who don't know, it means sexual actions and situations between two men. That means _without_ women. If you don't like it, I won't ban you from reading, but don't flame me. Remember that it's pointless - I won't stop writing this stuff just because some people don't read warnings (or ignore them).

You, intelligent readers who have something constructive to say, are welcome to review (puppy eyes) and please (feel free to) do so.

Dedicated to all those people who love Bill x Remus and those who love me too...

Remus' senses awaken long before he is willing to wake up. He leaves his eyes closed, listening to the almost inaudible sounds that bare feet are making on the wooden floor. Soon, he feels the mattress moving and the warmth of Bill's body returns to his side.

Sweet apples and spicy cinnamon touch his lips just for a second, lingering there and making him sniff, even if he recognized the taste and smell of Bill's morning tea a while ago.

Remus snuggles up to the warm body, savoring the feeling of the softness that is weaved into the skin of Bill's thigh, the tenderness reserved for the skin of those who are neither asleep nor awake. He buries his face in the fabric of Bill's shirt and breathes the scent of the dreams and nights, scent that is unique and familiar to Remus and almost lulls him back to sleep again.

Rustling of old paper pulls him from his slumber and he growls with discontent.

"Don't read that crap, go back to sleep."

"It's interesting," hears Remus as an answer somewhere above him. "Funny."

A hand caresses his hair, entwining fingers in honey-colored locks, some of them already stained with silver.

"Listen. _Werewolves are incapable of leading a normal social life. This is because they are loners and often attack people or even the younger of their own kind._ Sounds like you, doesn't it?"

Deep purr of Bill's laughter and a faint touch of irony hidden in his words make Remus smile and raise an eyebrow, though his eyes remain closed.

"If I remember correctly, it was you who stalked me in the middle of a night then."

"Then maybe the book is wrong?" Bill suggests as he puts the mentioned publication on a bedside table along with the teacup. He sinks to the bed as he is pulled down by a pair of strong hands wrapped around his neck.

"I wonder what _millennium_ is that damned book from," Remus manages to growl before he is drawn to the kiss, slow and gentle, their lips barely touching and brushing. Apple and cinnamon reappear in Remus' mind, caressing his senses together with Bill's fingers in his hair and on his bare chest – when they managed to sneak under his shirt? – and Remus pulls Bill closer, his friend, his protégé, his _lover. His_ Bill.

An impatient knock on the window breaks the atmosphere building in the tiny space between them. Remus growls, displeased.

"God damn the owls," he prays and frowns, when Bill starts to move away. "Shoot the bird and come back."

"It's Errol."

"Great, I will remember to carve it into her tombstone," Remus mutters when he realizes Bill's _really_ not coming back to the bed until he reads the mail.

Younger man throws Remus a reproachful look and opens a window to let the tired bird in.

After a long moment of silence broken just here and there by rustling of a paper, Remus feels the mattress sinking under the other man's weight once again.

"That must have been a whole novel," he smiles, finally opening his eyes. The first thing he sees is Bill's hunched figure and strange stiffness in his shoulders as he runs his fingers through his long tangled hair.

"What's wrong?" Remus asks, softly kissing the small of Bill's back and then sits up to pat the younger man's shoulder reassuringly.

Muscles under the tanned skin tense immediately.

"Fleur's back."

Two words fill the air, fill Remus' world for now, whispering a deadly threat right in his ear. He knows what it means, he _knew_ all along and still he had hoped he would never have to face this situation. Thoughtlessly he clung to the faint hope that Fleur, Bill's former lover, _his fiancée, for God's sake…_ that this girl won't come back.

But she did. And now, he has to smile and let Bill go.

"What are you…" he tries to sound normal, friendly and interested. But he knows his voice is too hoarse, _he himself_ does not believe that lie about being just friends again. Fortunately (really?) Bill knows what Remus wants to ask. How could he not know?

"I'll meet her, Rem."

"Oh."

"Don't sound so disappointed," Bill turns to face him and Remus is unable to look him up in the eyes, afraid that he would lose that little bit of self-control he managed to gain. "I have to talk to her. I owe it to her."

Remus knows what he means. He knows about the night that decided everything, about that unfortunate (_or fortunate,_ he thinks secretly) bite that scared Fleur to the point of leaving Bill and going back to the France. He knows he should be happy for Bill, because his fiancée returned, because he was given another chance to have a family with children and loving wife. He knows all this and it tears him apart, because _he knows_.

Red-haired man notices the sour grimace on his lover's face and moves nearer immediately. Long fingers touch Remus' face as Bill speaks, his own voice too rough to ascribe it to the cold November.

"Come on, Rem, I'm not gonna screw her the moment I see her."

"Yeah. You exchange greetings first," Remus manages a wry smile against Bill's palm and then pulls away. "I'm acting like a child. Go talk to her, Bill."

Younger werewolf smiles, placing a chaste _thank-you_ kiss on Remus' forehead and then another onto his lips.

Ten minutes later, Remus is alone with one idiotic book and a cup of cold tea. He shivers from cold, gets up to close a window that Bill left open and goes back to bed. It seems strangely empty and big without the other man, though it is designed for a single person.

Remus reaches to the bedside table for the cup and slowly brings it to his lips.

Staring through the window and seeing nothing because of the fog, sipping on a cold essence that used to be so hot and alive on certain lips, Remus feels he is fading.

**TBC…**

**A/N:** Let me know how you liked it… ideas welcomed, though I am not saying I will use them ;)


	2. Absinthe and Cognac

**Unsure, Insecure**

**Disclaimer: **I had wanted to own everything but I decided to share eventually. Characters belong to JKR and the plot is mine. She gets the money, I get hot smex .

**Warning:** Still Yaoi.

**A/N: **It's maybe not what you expect it to be, it's most probably not what you want it to be. I didn't plan it this way, it just happened. It was like this and I'll be glad if you read and enjoy it, and maybe let me know what you think.

---

Bill was gone.

Remus had been waiting the whole day. Waiting for Bill to return home, to hug him and say that it was over with Fleur, that he had chosen _him_. Actually, by the seven p.m. Remus had managed to convince himself that it could be no other way; he was always good with lying to himself.

Maybe that was the reason why it was such a shock to him when the old Errol bumped into his window and delivered a message, a short note obviously written in a rush.

_Staying at Burrow tonight. B._

For another hour, Remus had been trying to preoccupy his mind with reading. It had absolutely no effect as his mind wandered off to a direction different from anything that book might be about. He made a cup of coffee, but it seemed too bitter when drinking alone. He made a cup of tea, but was the same and it just made him feel worse. Not to mention the fact that the only tea in the sickeningly empty flat tasted like Bill's apple and cinnamon lips.

Remus even found an old bottle of cognac and tried to get himself drunk, but it didn't work either as he'd always had a high alcohol tolerance and three cups of amber liquid just made him a bit dizzy and a lot more alone. His loneliness stared at him from every corner through Bill's eyes and Remus tried his best not to hear that there was nothing to hear. The absolute silence swallowed him like a dark abyss and suddenly he couldn't breathe. He needed to get out of here, get out of the place that gasped Bill's name in his own aroused voice whenever he allowed his mind to wander through his memories.

He found himself at the street, shivering from cold as he stood there only in a thin linen shirt. It didn't matter that much, even though it was November night, freezing and merciless. _Only a few weeks until Christmas,_ it struck him and he looked upwards, to the ink sky that seemed more blue than black with all that mist and distant moonlight. _Another Christmas alone._

A random passerby looked at him, a weird mix of pity and aversion on her middle-aged face. She looked just like he could have looked if he was rich, married and happy, with someone to be with at Christmas.

"Go get something warm," she said and he found a crumpled ten pound banknote in his hand. He smiled sourly at the irony, as his flat with a cliché fireplace was just few steps away and he stood there, challenging his Destiny with a call for pneumonia in that thin shirt.

And he looked so lost and stray that a stranger gave him money. Ironic, wasn't it… he got the money he had needed his whole life _now_, when money was the last thing he was thinking about.

"Thank you," he raised his eyes from the meaningless paper in his hands, but the lady was long gone. Remus grinned as the idea of a good fairy crossed his mind and then shrugged.

He had money and he couldn't go home, because that place wasn't homely anymore. _Home is where you have your heart, eh,_ he thought and looked at the window that was once a place like that. It was still lit up; he must have forgotten to switch the lamp off. He knew he wouldn't survive another minute in there… and his heart was dry and he felt invisible and he had the money still in his hand. It was everything he needed when he headed towards the city to find a club, a café, _any _place where he could spend those ten pounds.

And the people looked at him, not really _seeing_ him, people in warm coats and scarves who could afford to pity him, because their hearts had been put in right places.

Soon he was shaking from cold. That night was November in every manner, unpleasant and dark and artificially bright at the same time as the streetlights burned his eyes violently. Tiny snowflakes were falling and he could feel each and every of them, melting into his shirt and making his little walk even more miserable if possible. He walked the streets that were too quiet and too noisy, because that night was full of irony and paradoxes. He heard the silence of loneliness unfolding in front of him like a veil and he felt almost physically every single beat of loud music that poured out of various night clubs.

Finally the cold became unbearable and he came in to one of the doors with lights and colorful ads outside.

There were dozens, maybe hundreds of people, mostly young but some even older than Remus and the atmosphere of solitude hit him like a hammer on the head. Even though there were people everywhere he looked, and they _were _smiling and dancing and thoroughly trying to look as if they were enjoying themselves… he could feel that general isolation tingling in the smoke-filled air. Everyone was alone in the middle of the society and he smiled at another paradox of that night – he instinctively came to the place that was soaked in the feeling he tried to run away from.

He sat down at the bar and ordered absinthe. With his resistance to alcohol and the money he had, there was not even a chance to get really pissed, but he could still give it a try.

Remus downed his drink in one gulp and ordered second. It was not until he finished his third glass, last with the money he had, when he realized someone's watching him.

"Will you let me treat you?"

Smooth voice was almost inaudible in all that noise around, but Remus heard it, as if those piercing turquoise eyes could send the message directly to his brain. He was not drunk, he was far from it… but something in him didn't stop the young man to order him another absinthe. Something deep down in him didn't _want_ to stop that man, handsome, young and obviously rich, everything Remus wasn't and everything he craved at the moment.

He downed his drink and looked the stranger in the eyes fiercely.

"You sure can drink," the man smiled and waved his hand at the bartender again. Another glass appeared in front of Remus.

"I'm William."

Remus looked at him. That last drink stayed untouched as an imaginary border between _what is_ and _what could be_.

"I'm Remus."

"That's a weird name," William laughed and threw his head back, his dark hair falling from his face and touching his neck lightly in a manner Remus had once known so well. It was almost a disappointment, when William looked at him again and instead of chocolate depths, there was that intense turquoise.

"You remind me of Sirius," Remus whispered absentmindedly as he touched the glass that glared at him with intensity of William's eyes. Drinking that absinthe was like drinking from the man's soul and it felt so distinctively warm Remus couldn't help but savour the taste lingering on his tongue longer than before.

"So you like stars, huh?" William smiled again, his voice rich with deep, seductive melody. He was much younger than Remus; the werewolf guessed about twenty-three or maybe even less, and his flirtations were a bit awkward, but he was so sure of himself and his beauty that Remus couldn't resist. His look lingered at the younger man and he smiled through the last gulp of blue-green liquid.

He stopped William from waving at the bartender again and he almost drew his hand touching William's fingers back, scared of his own boldness.

Almost.

"You've got eyes of a beast," William muttered, obviously fascinated and drawn to the older man like a fly to the light. Remus just smirked when the eager youngster leaned to him the moment they left that nightclub, kissing him passionately. His lips were a bit stiff and Remus figured he wasn't very experienced, regarding how his movements were somehow hasty. He slowly forced the younger man to slow down and kissed him thoroughly, biting at his lower lip, exploring his mouth and letting William know about his longer canines. The youngster seemed surprised, but even more aroused by that discovery.

Remus still wasn't drunk; he knew what he was doing… only he didn't know anything anymore. The only certainty he had had in life was now in Burrow discussing his oncoming wedding and he was in the part of city where he had never been before, letting some random man hug him and kiss him and lick him in a way he thought he would never let anyone to. Anyone except two men in his life, from which one was dead and another was getting married soon.

And the random man looked like that dead one and was named after the soon-to-be-married one, looked like a torture sent to him from Hell, or maybe Heaven, it didn't feel that different to Remus anymore. He was Bill and he was Sirius and he was neither, but still, he _was_ Bill and looked like Sirius and he was a natural talent in the ways of body as he licked his way down Remus' throat and chest, smiling against his bare skin:

"You're cold."

"I am," Remus whispered and felt another snowflake melting in his eye and sliding down his unshaved cheek.

"I'll warm you up."

The dull sound of pants unzipping echoed through the deserted alley, louder than the music from underground club which Remus felt under his feet. He closed his eyes, knowing it wasn't fair and he didn't want to be fair, he just wanted to forget it all and the hot mouth around his cock was the worst way to do it. It was filthy and nasty and so absolutely loathsome it made Remus shiver in disgust. But still, it was disgust mixed with pleasure and he didn't have to try too hard to forget _another_ mouth that had once been there. Because William was inexperienced and his teeth scraped Remus' sensitive skin occasionally, bringing him a weird mix of pain and pleasure, a strange need to push deeper in that mouth and draw back from them.

Remus knew and felt the disgust, but this was the most radical thing he could think of doing and even if he wanted to cry and run away, he was still there, standing motionless and coming deep into that willing mouth of a stranger with the face of Sirius and the name of Bill.

He didn't know how he managed to come back home – he didn't even know if he had returned the favour of a stranger named after his _home_. But he somehow managed and he found himself sitting at the floor of his flat, sobbing loudly, tears streaking his face and his fingers in his hair, pulling to the point of pain, but he didn't care, he needed pain because it was at least a bit _real_ and _familiar_ and it was the only homely feeling he could get at the moment. The homely feeling of the Shrieking Shack, where he had hurt himself, where he had bitten through his own flesh and his self-destructive cries of helplessness had eased it all at least a little bit. Suddenly, he wished for the full moon to come, so he could transform and bite himself so much he would bleed to death.

And the idea of full moon reminded him of Bill once again.

He cried until his head hurt and there were no more tears to shed.


	3. Visitor

**Unsure, Insecure**

**Disclaimer: **I had wanted to own everything but I decided to share eventually. Characters belong to JKR and the plot is mine. She gets the money, I get hot smex .

**Warning:** Nothing changed. Still Yaoi.

Remus' fingers touched the grey stone of an empty grave. He would have liked it to be marble, but he was too poor to afford it when he paid for the tombstone and even if he could have asked Harry for money, somehow it didn't feel right. Harry mourned his godfather for long enough and didn't need a piece of stone with Sirius' name on it to cry. And then there was that strange feeling of possessiveness – Remus knew it was morbid to think that way of an empty grave of his lover and friend, but still, he couldn't accept the mere thought of anyone else coming here, touching the stone and talking to unresponsive silver letters carved to it.

There was nothing attached to this place – no ceremony was held as it would be for someone lost in the sea or generally any other person considered dead. No one else knew about this place – even if they did, Remus doubted they would come. Maybe Harry – but the boy's life was now hard enough as it was and he didn't need this place to add to it.

It was somehow weird – Remus knew there was nothing here but that stone, and still, he had a strange feeling that Sirius was here with him. Somehow, it felt right to come here and talk to the tombstone – even if people can remember their beloved ones anywhere, Remus needed a concrete place to come to.

To talk to him.

It felt as if it was some kind of shrine – as when you know God is everywhere, but when you're in a church, you can actually feel his presence, talk to him. Remus never talked to God, because God never talked to Remus, but still, he somehow knew how it felt. That artificial silence you try to maintain, forcing yourself not to even breathe, only to catch every single piece of what could be an answer from _him_. A low rustle of oak leaves above your head, telling you he just smiled, just _now_, next to you, holding your hand – yes, that's the cold feeling in your fingers.

"I'm lost again, Padfoot…"

Remus sometimes felt this place was driving him mad. As if the whole cemetery wanted him dead, lying in his own unvisited and unattended grave. This feeling of sudden maliciousness was the only thing that drove him away every single time, something that reminded him of hours and hours he stood there, caressing the cold stone wet from the rain and mumbled something to the silence enclosing him. _Maybe it is Sirius' will,_ Remus smiled slightly as he turned and glanced back to the abandoned tombstone one more time. _Maybe he's telling me to get my ass up and start living for real…_ yeah, it definitely felt like something Sirius would say. Remus could almost hear the playful tone in his voice, whispering to his ear from the wind blowing around.

_It's harder than it seems, Padfoot,_ Remus thought, following the lonely path down the cemetery full of late autumn leaves and first snow. He didn't even know why he came today – when he woke up on the floor of his flat, next to the door and his head hurting from too many tears, he felt this sudden urge to visit Sirius. To seek his advice. _Maybe that thing with William affected me a bit too much,_ the werewolf wondered and shrugged, suddenly feeling a freezing bite of November's coldness.

When he opened the door to his flat, he didn't have to see the boots on the floor to know that _he_ was home. It was hard to believe and it struck Remus' mind that Bill only came to pack his belongings. It was something he didn't want to see, so he decided not to announce his presence - unfortunately for him, the other man was a werewolf too. Not a full one, but still good enough to know when he was not alone anymore.

"Rem?" came muffled question and to Remus, it seemed somehow sleepy. He couldn't help it - abandoning his soon-to-be cup of a coffee, he came to his own bedroom to find one young wolf sprawled on his bed, yawning and rubbing sleep out of eyes that seemed far too red to be only sleeping.

"You could at least strip," Remus sighed, seeing Bill's muddy jeans and wet jacket staining the clean sheets.

"You want me to?" came the answer that should have been playful but was far too pained to be anything but weird.

"What happened?" the older werewolf asked, even if that was the last thing he wanted to know. Bill was here, in his bed, an it didn't look to Remus as if he was going somewhere in the near future, but still - the results of the visit of Burrow weren't apparently too good, and what Remus wanted the most was Bill's smile.

The redhead smiled, but far too sadly to Remus' liking.

"Come here," he said at last and pulled Remus down to the bed. The older man wanted to protest, but when strong arms embraced him and his back was pressed against muscular chest, he stopped himself. Yes, this was definitely what he wanted - but without the tension in the air.

"Bill... what happened in the Burrow?" Remus asked once more and one heavy sigh came as his answer. Dry, warm lips were pressed against his neck in a light kiss and whispered against his scarred skin:

"She wants me back."

Remus felt his throat tighten and his inner organs disappear at those words.

"And... you?" it was all he wanted to ask in those two words. Do you want _her_ back? Do you still love her? Have you ever loved _me_? What are you going to do now?

Bill just shrugged - Remus felt his shoulders moving against his own - and tightened his embrace, burying his face in Remus' hair, in the familiar and calming scent.

"I'm not sure. I'm a werewolf, after all."

His tone was bitter and Remus frowned at those words. It wasn't what he wanted to hear - he knew how Bill once loved Fleur, he saw how utterly devastated he had been when Fleur left, and though he hoped, he was always convinced that Bill's love for Fleur would never be completely gone. But the tone in which he said it...

"Were you with me only because we're the same? Beasts? That's what you mean?" his voice sounded dull even to him and he felt disappointment rising in him. Yes, he always knew that it was _safe_ for Bill to be with him, but still, it didn't hurt any less.

"No... I mean... she said she would forgive me if I came back..." Bill murmured into grey hair and Remus froze, his disappointment turning into anger.

"Forgive you?! Forgive you for being yourself? Bill, that's..." he stopped when he heard the slightest, muffled sob followed by trembling of that supposedly strong body against his own. When Bill spoke, his voice was strained and sounded lost.

"I know... that's not what I thought it would be."

"Do you still love her?"

"I... honestly, I don't know. I did think I still loved her when she appeared in front of me yesterday... but now... I'm just not sure."

Remus wanted to ask _And do you love me?_, but didn't, as he was afraid of the answer... which came anyway.

"And you mean very much for me, Rem. I'm not with you because you're werewolf... but I don't know what _love_ means anymore."

The laid like that, hugging and breathing and just _living_ together, for what seemed like minute and could be hours, and Remus though about it all. It was suddenly so complicated - he had always been a romantic fool, even though the hope he had for himself was almost none. And so, when the chance came for him, when a man whom Remus could love appeared, Remus took that chance, though hesitantly, and gradually fell in love with that man. With another werewolf, who sought acceptance and found it with Remus, but wanted it from someone else.

If Remus' tears hadn't dried long ago, he would have cried for sure. He was even a bit thankful for a doorbell that rang and tore him away from that embrace, sweet and painful at once, because those arms weren't completely _his_.

So he opened the door, still loking a bit ruffled from the bed and there she stood, graceful, beautiful and flawless with her silvery hair and piercing eyes.

"I came to take Bill back," she said and Remus' mind suddenly went blank.


	4. Asked and Answered

**Unsure, Insecure**

**Disclaimer: **Tomorrow, HP7 book comes out. You can't possibly think that I would publish this NOW if I really owned anything... I'd wait and have you buy it XD

**Warning:** Guess what. Yaoi ;)

**A/N:** Review, please...

Most people tended to look damp and dishevelled after a walk in such weather, but she was still _perfect_. So damn perfect that it was almost scary and something inside Remus stirred, anxious and disturbed. The possessive werewolf in him needed to jump at her and bite her, tear that flawless being and see the fear in her eyes that looked down at him now with such intensity. He wanted that more than anything, or at least to growl at her and say that Bill was _his_.

But being a werewolf for as long as he had been, Remus could control these urges and disguise them under a nice smile. Even if at that very moment he wished he was impulsive, he still nodded and let her in.

Remus could hear how Bill's breath caught in his throat when he saw her and wished that the younger werewolf would send her away. Of course, he was sure that was not going to happen as Bill made it clear that it was hard for him to decide... in other words, he wanted Fleur back, but wasn't sure if he should and could.

"Your mother is worried. She told me to bring you back," her heavy French _r _rang with more accent than Remus remembered and Bill ran his fingers through his messy hair, revealing the scars on his face for a moment. Remus remembered how Bill constantly tried to hide the reminders of his injuries under the hair, even if he denied it with a smile every time Remus implied it.

"I said I needed time to think," Bill threw Remus a look clearly pleading for help and Remus couldn't go away and lock himself somewhere, even if he intended to leave them alone. Still feeling out of the place, Remus motioned for them to sit down.

Fleur's blue eyes pierced him and he would swear she could read his mind. Fortunately, he wasn't forced to suffer under her glare any longer as she shifted her look back to Bill, who sat down next to Remus on a large sofa and seemed clearly uneasy.

"I was thinking about it all," she spoke once again and Remus wished she would say something stupid and insensitive again and drive Bill away definitely. "And I want you to think about it carefully too, Bill. I'm trying to love you..."

"You're trying?" Remus snorted and he felt a slight surprise in both pairs of eyes as a result. After all, he was that always smiling, always gentle Remus Lupin. Sarcasm wasn't what they knew of him. Remus himself wasn't sure where those biting words came from – the only thing he felt was that if he didn't say them, they would choke him to death. "You don't have to force yourself, Fleur. There are people who _still_ love Bill without having to _try_."

Bill's questioning look was followed by Fleur's frown. Damn, even distressed and with wrinkles on her forehead, Remus had to acknowledge her beauty. And what was worse, he knew she wasn't just a stupid weak girl with pretty face – after all, if she were, she wouldn't had been chosen for Triwizard Tournament... wouldn't had been chosen by Bill.

"Tell me, Remus, who are these people you speak about? You? Who doesn't 'ave to try to love a werewolf because you're one too?"

"Are you saying that he doesn't deserve to be loved because he's a werewolf?" Remus practically growled – years of being treated as inferior by officials had left deep scars inside his mind.

"No! It's not that..." her denial was absolute and even a hint of fear appeared in her crystal blue eyes at his suggestion. "You would never understand as you are a werewolf too, and from what I've 'eard, you've been one since you were child. Try to imagine 'ow I felt, when a man I loved, a gentle, nice and caring man turned to a beast out of control."

"Bill is not..." Remus tried to protest, but Bill's sigh silenced him perfectly.

"She is right, Rem. I _was_ out of control then," he admitted with defeated grimace and Remus wondered what he wanted to do after all. He knew that Bill never forgave himself for how he had destroyed his relationship with Fleur, but Remus wasn't too sure he wanted Bill to gain that forgiveness. Because forgiven Bill equaled Fleur's Bill.

"You were," she whispered, looking at Bill as if seeking forgiveness herself. "And I was scared to death that you wouldn't be the same anymore, so I fled."

"When he needed you most," another biting remark escaped Remus' lips and he knew it was true with as much intensity as he knew he had no right to say it.

"Yes. During the time I was in France I 'ave read some books about werewolves and... I won't say I'm not scared anymore, Bill," she gave him another pained look and Remus so wanted to strangle her for sincerity in her words, "but I came to miss you terribly. I do love you, Bill, and I need time to get used to your new... personality. But I will get used to it, I promise. I want to."

"And you will _forgive_ him for what he is?" Remus interrupted, but his voice lost all its sarcasm and now it sounded dull and resigned, because her speech gave Bill all assurance he had longed for. Remus was no match for her... not that he would dare to think otherwise. She was a Veela after all, a beast in her own form, possessive just like werewolves were, with her own weapons to use.

She buried her goddess-like face in her pale hands as though ashamed of herself.

"I though it would be the best for 'im... I was mistaken. I never... I don't know 'ow to react most of the time, Bill. You've changed a lot, but I can't 'elp but love you."

"I still... need time," Bill protested, but it was awkward and shaken and Remus knew he was lost. Bill just didn't dare to believe in himself, didn't want to hurt her any further...

"Your mother wishes to speak to you. She sent me to bring you 'ome."

Bill's look was suddenly directed to Remus and a silent plea was clearly written all over his face. Remus' old, well-known self came to its senses as he smiled, weakly and sadly, but still smiled, and nodded.

"Go," he said silently and he knew that he would break if he said it any louder. He would break and cry or yell or hurt someone in the process, and so he needed Bill to go. Leave and find his own answers, as he, Remus Lupin, just a fellow werewolf, wasn't allowed to be Bill's answer any longer.

Bill looked grateful and uncertain, but when Fleur's small fingers touched his rough hand, he stood up and left. It wasn't that sudden, but Remus couldn't bring himself to really notice the things around him.

Only a silent closing of the front door got through to him from a distance and Remus stretched slowly on a sofa on which, just moments ago, Bill sat with his apologetic eyes and slightly trembling hands, deciding his future and also Remus' own.

The werewolf inhaled the faint scent of younger man's body still lingering all around him and allowed himself to drift to sleep.


	5. Inevitable

**Unsure, Insecure**

**Disclaimer: **Yes, still NOT mine.

**Warning:** And yes. Still Yaoi.

The first full moon without Bill meant all hell breaking loose for Remus. It was horribly lonely and purgative in its own cruel way.

He didn't take his Wolfsbane and McGonagall scolded him like a schoolboy when he came to an Order meeting next day, still bleeding, skin torn and eyes dull.

"Are you aware of what could have happened, Remus?!" she yelled and the barely concealed hysteria of mother hen in her voice reminded Remus of the times at Hogwarts, when Marauders had done something dangerous. She said he was irresponsible, that he could have bitten someone and that he looked terrible. And he knew she was right to some point, maybe absolutely right, but still, he couldn't very well explain it to her. No one would understand, no one could.

"Why, for heaven's sake, didn't you take that potion?" McGonagall tried to grab him and shake him into state of at least minimal understanding of what he'd done wrong, but seeing that any harsher movement only reopened his wounds and bites, she let go of him with a sigh.

"There was no potion this month," a cold voice stated matter-of-factly and its owner didn't seem a bit concerned about consequences that glared at him through McGonagall's eyes.

"Severus," she acknowledged his presence and Remus turned to see Snape's usual icy smirk.

"Lupin's body needs to take a break from Wolfsbane sometimes, Minerva. Unless we want some ugly side-effects, for example losing what little decency he has left."

Snape accompanied his statement with another sarcastic grin and McGonagall left, not exactly satisfied with that explanation, but at least not questioning Remus' state of mind any longer.

The werewolf looked up and saw a glimpse of what looked like understanding in Snape's eyes. Yes, he was a Death Eater, a beast in its own, more human and crueler way, and if someone understood the need to feel physical pain in order not to think about the mental wounds, it was Snape.

Remus didn't know what made Snape cover for him and lie to McGonagall, even if it had been the Potions Master personally who had delivered Remus' monthly drug just a few days ago. Maybe some strange feeling of familiarity with the werewolf's self-inflicted redemption, and maybe just because he wasn't as concerned about Remus' blood-loss and simply wasn't in a mood to listen to McGonagall's rambling. Remus didn't know, but whispered a "Thank you" anyway.

"Don't act like a spoiled child," Snape sneered at him, "there's no time to be rash now."

Remus knew – now, when War was so close it could be felt, smelled and tasted, the sensation of nearing blood-shed lingering in the air. And still it seemed so far away he couldn't even think about it, not when his own life resembled an abandoned war field.

During the following weeks, the power of Death Eaters was slowly rising, Remus' melancholy didn't fade and Christmas was closer with every passing day. Remus saw Bill a few times when their work for Order clashed in some way, but they never spoke to each other. Most of the time, Remus saw him from afar and even if his rational self convinced him that it was for the best, somehow it was hard to wish for Bill's happiness with Fleur devotedly. It was hard, when he saw them in Diagon Alley, happy in careful and not too obvious way, their hands touching occasionally – he knew it was how it was supposed to be… but it never helped anyone to know this.

And then, a letter came to Remus' lonely flat and he wondered if McGonagall was beginning to catch up to Dumbledore in being manipulative, meddling know-it-all. Even if there was possibility that the Headmistress didn't know anything about his previous relationships, it was at least highly improbable. And he couldn't very well refuse without revealing it, without _admitting_ that something was wrong. Oh, how he hated these cleverly-made traps.

And so, on the Christmas Eve, which he had intended to spend with a bottle of Ogden's and have some brooding done, Remus found himself accompanying Harry Potter on his way to the Burrow, along with Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt. At least one misunderstanding seemed to be cleared as Remus' predictions about Tonks sending him accusing glares didn't prove to be accurate. In fact, Tonks was sending looks mostly in one black Auror's direction and according to Kingsley's attempts to flirt and fly at the same time, he returned her feelings.

What _did _prove to be accurate was Remus' bad feeling about his first visit of Burrow after very long time. He stepped into Molly's kitchen hoping that he wouldn't have to face her – they hadn't met since he had tried to convince her about his sincere feelings for her son and even that last meeting didn't go very well. She warned him then - said that for Bill, this relationship would never be as serious as it had been with Fleur… _how I thought she was wrong at that time._

The second the door to the chilly December morning was closed, a familiar scent made its way into Remus' senses. The faint touch of apples and cinnamon let him know that _he_ was here and Remus felt strong urge to flee this house full of what he wanted to forget. Instead, he took a few steps and looked at the piece of parchment lying on the table. Reading a few names apparently written down in haste, he smiled sourly – the list of wedding guests, of course… how he could forget.

He turned when he heard footsteps and saw Molly fussing over how thin and sleepy Harry looked. Remus highly doubted that it was a consequence of their ride here – in the last months, the tiredness seemed to be undeletable in the boy's face, everlasting in the dark circles under green eyes. It wasn't as if Harry looked any worse than every other Order member, but still – the fact that even a child like him would be needed in this damn slaughter made them all understand exactly how far it had all come.

Molly finally sent the poor boy to bed and after greeting Tonks and Kingsley, she moved her attention to Remus – it was awkward a lot, or at least Remus felt that she didn't know how to treat him. In her voice, there was that ever-present "I told you," of a woman who had won an argument, there was a bit of pity and even a little "sorry" hidden underneath, when she spoke to him:

"Remus… will you stay for dinner?"

He knew that no matter how hard he'd try, it would be too much for him to handle – seeing Bill happy with his soon-to-be wife, feeling the warmth of family he never had. Politely refusing, he wanted to take his leave almost unharmed, still a bit drugged by a faint scent of Bill lingering in the room along with other people's presences.

Then he saw him – still sleepy, hair messy, wearing only a pair of thin cotton pants and smelling of his morning tea. Bill stepped into kitchen, his loud yawn changing to a beaming smile when he noticed Tonks and Kingsley. Made some joke about the two – Remus wasn't listening. His only thought, as that of a trapped animal, was that his way to the door, thus to the freedom, was blocked by a red-haired man he didn't really need to see at the very moment.

However, it was too late to think about escaping, because Bill finally noticed Remus' presence and a smile disappeared not only from his lips, but from his eyes as well. To make things worse, Molly suddenly seemed to gather what little diplomacy she had when it came to her children, and shooed Tonks and Kingsley out of the kitchen under pretence of wanting to know everything about those two. Last thing Remus could make out was Kingsley's mumbling that they weren't really together yet.

And then, he was left alone with those eyes just looking at him, killing the last bits of his sanity and making him yearn for the next full moon.

"I'll go," Remus interrupted the awkward moment and wished he could Apparate right from here.

"Feel free to stay for dinner," Bill said quietly and Remus turned to face him. Instead, his eyes rested on the white parchment full of names again.

"Congratulations."

"I'll send you an invitation," Bill made a face that wasn't easy to decipher – Remus decided it was something between rebellion and hurt.

"Don't bother," he said and stepped out to the hostile winter day. It was still a bit dark, even if white was everywhere and Remus felt strange when he paced quickly through occasionally falling snowflakes to reach the border of Anti-Apparating spell. He wasn't sure if it was sadness, pain or relief he felt – most probably none of the mentioned. It just felt strange and Remus wished he could turn into a wolf right now, in this snow, near woods and hills and just run. At the same time, he knew it was a foolish wish and that most probably, even if he could, he would, rather that running in a nearing snowstorm, just Apparate home and make himself a nice, warm cup of… no, no tea today. Coffee would do, maybe.

Loud crunching of snow under someone's feet brought him back to reality and he turned just in time to find himself absorbed in cinnamon scent, cinnamon hair and cinnamon taste, when younger werewolf pressed his hungry lips to Remus' own. It wasn't gentle and it wasn't promising, it was just last Bill's cry for help, for Remus to help him decide. And Remus did accept what was given, poured his own imaginary sobs and cries into that kiss, tasted _home_ for one last time before it ended, because Remus was painfully aware of the fact that he didn't want Bill anymore, not Bill only accepting what was offered, not Bill with Fleur-issues, not the _real_ Bill who was never Remus' _home _to start with. He frowned at Bill's naked chest.

"You'll catch cold," he said, as if younger man didn't know himself. He knew, indeed, as he smirked, red on his lips already beginning to fade into ill shade of blue.

"I hate you when you're this… mature."

"One of us has to be," Remus shrugged and wondered if he should offer Bill his coat. He didn't.

"I know. I'm an immature brat who doesn't even understand himself. I thought I've already gotten through that phase… well, I haven't," Bill smirked and sneezed loudly, beginning to shiver a bit. "I am still not sure, Remus. I don't know if she's what I want. I don't know… if I don't need you."

"She _is_," Remus heard himself say, as if his voice was connected to the only rational part of his brain, the part telling him that this was alright. Most of his mind was yelling at him to grab Bill and stick tongue in his mouth, but that part didn't seem to be in charge. "And you don't need me. You are sure as hell about what you want to do; you're just insecure about doing it. That's understandable, but not forgivable. Bill… she'll accept you some day, most probably. Maybe you'll hurt her and maybe she'll be the one to hurt you, but that's what … relationships are about." Remus really wanted to say "love", but found himself unable to pronounce it aloud in front of the man who had been not so long ago connected to this word for Remus.

He saw it now – saw that Molly was right, that Bill was never truly in love with him, that he just needed assurance and sought it where he got it. He didn't blame him for it – how could he?

And Bill just stood there, shivering and cold, and smiled at him. His eyes were gleaming too much, but Remus managed to convince himself that the wetness covering the turquoise orbs only had something to do with the fact that it was freezing outside and Bill was almost naked.

"Thank you," he whispered and Remus felt a strange urge to kiss him again. Instead, he turned away and Apparated.

His coat hung loosely from shoulders tanned by Egyptian sun, shoulders Remus himself could never touch. Again.

Mary Phillips had always been an exemplary wife. She had always taken care of everything that could be needed when her husband had been still alive and even now, twelve years after his death, she couldn't even think about spending Christmas Eve without visiting him.

Mrs. Phillips lit a candle for the soul of her husband on his grave and after praying for a while (and also sharing the newest gossips with her Eddie), she stood up and let the small path in snow lead her away from this sad place. Just before she left, something caught her eye and she returned a few steps only to be sure.

To be correct, it was not something – it was someone, someone dressed in just thin trousers and worn-out sweater, someone sitting in the snow and almost covered with it as the snowflakes were now falling in heavy, damp clumps. Someone probably in his forties, wet brown hair already streaked with silver, someone clearly not minding catching pneumonia or something even worse, sitting here in those thin clothes, his back rested against a cold tombstone.

"Hey… hey! What are you doing here?" she asked rashly to get his attention. She wouldn't oversee the presence of some damn homeless on the cemetery where her husband rested in peace – even if she wasn't sure why any homeless would be here instead of getting some free Christmas food and clothes in the city.

The man opened his eyes – eyes that reminded her of liquid gold – and smiled, or at least tried; it was too sad to be called a smile, if Mary could say.

"Just visiting home," he said, his voice hoarse and she left with a shrug.

Homeless people just had it harsh.

**A/N: **This is meant to be **THE END**. At least for this story ;) I know you all wanted a happy end. I did myself... but I got carried away and did the worst thing you can do when you want a happyend... I actually THOUGHT about what would they do and what would happen in reality... and this is where it got me and this story. I really wanted Bill to ditch Fleur... but damn, it SO did not work TT

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the story anyway. See you in another fic of mine ;)


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